Tonic

by Staci Hart

  Neither of us laughed as he walked to his room and shut the door, leaving me alone with her for the first time in nearly fifteen years.

  “You look good, Joel.”

  “You too, Liz. Wanna sit?”

  “Sure, thanks.” She took a seat at the table, and I stepped to the fridge for a beer.

  “Beer?” I asked, looking over my shoulder.

  She shook her head. “I’m in recovery. Weekly meetings. Twelve steps. That old chestnut.” She dug around in her bag as I closed the fridge door, shocked. “Mind if I smoke?”

  I shook my head, grabbing an ashtray off the counter. I slid it in front of her and sat down as she lit her smoke and took a long drag.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “What are you doing here, Liz?”

  She sat back in her chair and crossed one arm, propping her elbow on it with her cigarette in the air. “I came to call a truce.”

  My brow rose. “So Hal sent you?”

  “He doesn’t know I’m here.” She took a drag and blew the smoke toward the ceiling. “I get the bad blood between all of us, because it’s never been good or easy. We don’t really do easy, you and me.”

  I took a pull of my beer in lieu of a response.

  “But we both have shows, and they’re going to be pushing us to fight. If we can truce, we can control how it all goes down. Otherwise, we’ll all be at each other’s throats. I don’t want that, and you don’t either. Our shops already hate each other. Throw the show into the mix, and it could really get bad. I don’t want my guys actually fighting with yours. I don’t want to deal with any actual damage. Do you?”

  “Of course I don’t.”

  “Then we should work together.” Another puff of her cigarette. “He’s not a bad guy, Joel.”

  “Ha.”

  Her brow dropped. “He’s not, and you know he’s not. You know he’s always idolized you. And you also know that when he and I got together, he couldn’t stay at Tonic. He didn’t leave to spite you. He left for me.”

  I ran a hand over my mouth, elbows on the table. “Hadn’t thought about it like that.”

  She smiled, lips together. “No, you wouldn’t have. Hal’s a good man. He’s taken care of me and I’ve taken care of him. You’ve gotta understand that me and Hal is nothing like me and you. You made me crazy.”

  “I made you crazy?” I smirked.

  “I’m an alcoholic, Joel. I hurt you and you hurt me back for five years straight, over and over again. It wasn’t until I started this whole sobriety thing that I really understood what I’d done. Hal’s doing it with me. Makes it easier.”

  “But you never fought with him?”

  She shrugged. “I mean, sure. We fought, but not like we fought. But part of why I’m here too is to make amends.”

  I chuckled softly. “Twelve steps?”

  She smiled and took a drag. “Twelve steps. I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for fucking you up more than you’d probably admit to me. You don’t have to forgive me for any of it, but you needed to hear it, to know it’s true.”

  I swallowed and nodded. “Thanks for telling me.”

  “You’re welcome. So, back to the shop and the shows — can we work out a truce?”

  I blew out a breath. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try. But I’ve got to think on all of it.”

  She nodded. “That’s fair,” she said as she snuffed the butt of her cigarette into the ashtray and watched me for a second. “Listen, it’s none of my business to say anything, but I’ve heard some gossip about you and one of your producers. That you were seeing each other. Big fight?”

  I frowned. “How could you know that?”

  “One PA tells another PA. It was on our set before lunch.”

  “I fucking hate this show.” It was almost a groan.

  She chuckled. “Yeah, I mean, I was pretty shocked you ended up agreeing to it, even if it was just to stop Hal.”

  I frowned. “Seriously, how do you know everything?”

  “I’m not kidding about the gossip. Our makeup artist has a big fucking mouth. But anyway, shut up for a second so I can make my point.” She waited to make sure I was going to keep quiet before continuing. “She’s not me. If you care about her, you need to remember that or you’ll never survive.”

  “There’s nothing to survive. She made sure of that.”

  “Nothing’s unfixable.”

  I gave her a look.

  “Okay, other than you and me, nothing’s unfixable. She’s not me. Hal’s not you. That’s why he and I work — he’s the polar opposite of you. When I show my crazy, he keeps his cool where you just pushed me right back.”

  “So, you’re saying that I’m to blame for you and me?”

  She huffed and rolled her eyes. “Joel. Seriously. Stop talking.” She leaned in. “You’ve got to remember something important about us.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It wasn’t your fault.” She sighed, the sound full of regret. “I’m not going to make excuses for either of us, but it wasn’t because of you alone that we were bad together. I don’t know how much power I have over how you feel about that, but I wanted to say it anyway. Because I want you to be happy.”

  I looked at my beer bottle as I twisted it slowly in a circle. “I don’t really know what to say to all of this, Liz.”

  “You don’t have to say anything. I’ve had plenty of time to get up the nerve to come talk to you, and you’ve been blindsided. So, just think about it.” She stood and grabbed her bag. I did the same, walking her to the door. “See ya around, Joel.”

  I nodded, and she walked away, leaving me more exhausted than ever.

  When I walked into work the next morning, I didn’t know how to feel. Mostly, I was resigned to the fact that I had to be there, on the show, unwilling to risk everything I’d worked so hard for. In that, I could see where Annika was coming from in trying to protect her job, but that was where the similarities ended. I wasn’t willing to put the people I loved at risk. I wasn’t willing to lie.

  Or maybe I was, I thought as I took a seat at my desk, surrounded by cameras.

  I hadn’t seen her since I walked out of the office the day before. She’d disappeared, up into the control room I figured. Probably plotting with Laney all the ways they could use their new angle to their advantage. I imagined them laughing deviously with little horns on their heads, throwing darts at all of our faces. But I knew it was more honest than that, which almost hurt more.

  Laney walked in and gave us instruction, put everyone in their places to film for the day. Annika never showed — I expected her to walk in the door and pick a fight with me on camera, or for Laney to sit the two of us down and force us to talk with the whole world listening. I’d braced myself for it all day, but the shoe never dropped.

  I worked that afternoon on a large hip piece that required the girl be in her underwear, so I spent the time in the back room, the same one where I’d touched Annika for the first time. And though I’d scrubbed and sanitized the room myself, there was no getting rid of the memory. She’d been everything I thought I wanted and everything I needed, but didn’t know it. She fed my soul, and I felt that loss completely.

  But she’d scared me too. I’d slipped back into the old dynamic I had with Liz without even realizing it, into the push and pull that had almost ruined me once before. I heard Liz in my mind — She’s not me. And I knew she was right. Annika was different, but even a hint of that relationship dynamic, full of anger and manipulation, still terrified me.

  I couldn’t go down that road again. Even though for a moment, I’d seen Annika let go. The fighting had been gone and behind us for that moment when she was mine and I was hers. I’d caught a glimpse of her, the real her, and I’d thought we’d turned a corner and stepped into something happy, equal.

  But she’d lied. And that lie wrecked everything we’d built. But in the end, it was a maze of mirrors, and the only way out was to smash them, to step throug
h the shards of the wreckage and walk away. Only I was still trapped. Just not by her.

  When the tattoo was finished, Laney had already left the shop, and once I was free, I made my way upstairs to her office. I told myself I just wanted to know how they were going to use me, my only condition to the whole farce. In a dark, dusty corner in the back of my mind, I wanted to know where she was, if she was all right, when she’d be back. As much as I reminded myself it was for my protection — knowing would help me brace myself — I ached to know just for my own peace of mind, and I hated myself for it.

  Laney stood in the control room behind an editor, directing them on a trailer they were cutting, but she stood when she saw me, her face drawn.

  “Joel,” she said in way of a greeting.

  I nodded. “Do you have a second?”

  “Sure.” She turned for her office, and I followed, though she held the door open for me, closing it behind me when I’d passed. “What can I do for you?”

  My jaw clenched, fighting the words, wishing she could just offer me all the information I wanted without stooping to ask. “So.” I cleared my throat. “Annika told me about your scheme to integrate her into the show, and I wanted to know just how you planned on doing that. I’ve been in the dark long enough. If you want me to play, you’re going to have to tell me what’s coming before it happens. I won’t be manipulated anymore. That’s my only condition.”

  Laney leaned against her desk. “That’s fair. But it’s no longer necessary.”

  My brow dropped. “What do you mean?”

  Her face was sad, and she looked like she hadn’t slept any more than I had. “Joel, Annika quit.”

  “What?” I breathed, uncomprehending.

  “Yesterday, after she spoke to you. She didn’t give me much, and I didn’t ask because her reasoning is crystal clear to me.”

  “Well, enlighten me. I can’t imagine a single reason why she’d leave this show, not after … everything.”

  She smiled sadly, narrowing her eyes, amused. “You really can’t think of any reason?”

  I made a face.

  Laney sighed, shaking her head at me. “She left because of you.”

  I didn’t speak, just stood there stupidly, trying to sort through what I’d heard.

  “She told me that the show couldn’t function with her here, which is only partly true. What she didn’t say, but what I know to be true, is that she left because you couldn’t bear for her to be here.”

  I dropped into Annika’s chair — her old chair, she was gone, gone — and stared at a spot on her desk.

  Laney watched me, hands folded on her lap, sitting side-saddle on the edge of the desk. “I’ve known Annika for a long time, and as long as I’ve known her, as well as I know her … she would only risk everything she’d worked for, including the protection of her heart, for one reason.”

  She waited until I looked up at her before telling me something I knew but couldn’t truly fathom.

  “She loves you, Joel. I don’t know if she knows it, if she realizes it, but that doesn’t make it any less true. She walked out of here sad and dejected, sure. But she left here completely certain she was doing the right thing. Your happiness is more important than hers. Your dreams are more important than hers. She put your needs above her own. And the only people who she’s ever done that for are her family.”

  I still couldn’t speak, the words all piled up in my throat like a train wreck. But Laney didn’t need me to speak, she was still going.

  “I know she hurt you. I know she lied to you, but she did that for me, for her job, and she hoped you would understand. That when you told her to do what she had to do, that it meant you would forgive her. Annika wanted to tell you the truth. Joel, she fought for you. She did everything she could not to hurt you. And deep down, I know you know that.”

  I touched my lips, rubbing them gently before I spoke. “You’re right,” I said, my voice raw and quiet.

  “And I’m sorry to be the one to tell you all this. But you won’t listen to her or your brother or anyone. Frankly, I didn’t think you’d listen to me, either. But I’m the only one who knows her, really knows her, and I owe this to her, to you.”

  My thoughts crashed through my brain like a bull in a china shop, smashing and snorting, with clumsy hooves that tried to piece it all together. But I’d only made it worse. Made it harder. And now, I had to make it right.

  I nodded at Laney.

  Her eyes narrowed a tick. “You haven’t really said anything. What are you going to do?”

  I stood, feeling the fire of decision licking at my ribs, flickering with every beat of my heart. “I’m going to get her back.”

  HAIRY 2.0

  Annika

  A KNOCK RAPPED AT MY bedroom door, and Roxy cracked it open.

  “You awake?” she asked, her head floating bodiless in the gap.

  “Yeah,” I muttered, my voice gruff from disuse.

  She slipped into the dim room and crawled in bed, settling in so we were face to face, curled toward each other.

  “It’s been two days, and I’ve only seen you leave this room for food, vodka, and to pee.”

  I shrugged my free shoulder. “It’s not like I have anything else to do.”

  “I mean, I’ve been trying to get you to take a vacation for years, but this is excessive.” She smiled, joking, and I tried to smile back.

  Apparently, it was weak. Roxy kept on me.

  “You’re kind of stinky, too. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your hair greasy in all my twenty-six years of knowing you.”

  “To be fair, you can’t remember the first five or so.”

  She made a face. “I’m sure Dina never let you get this bad. Seriously, you look borderline homeless.”

  I sniffed, not having anything else to say.

  Her face softened. “Come on. Come get out of bed. Get cleaned up. Maybe we can walk down to DUMBO, take Kira to play at the park under the bridge.”

  I sighed. “I don’t really feel like it, Rox.”

  “What have you even been doing in here?”

  “Reading. Sleeping. Pretty much just that.”

  “Have you talked to Laney?”

  “No, but I don’t even know where my phone is.”

  Her face twisted up, lip curling. “Who are you?”

  “Don’t be dramatic.”

  She snorted. “Tell me not to breathe, why don’t you.”

  “What do you want, Roxy? Should I go over it all again? Because I just don’t want to talk about it anymore. There’s nothing anyone can say to fix this. I had to leave so Joel can get on with his life. So the shop and the show can keep going. I was the problem, the gum in the gears. So I let it go, and that’s that. All better.”

  “Except for you.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  She sighed. “Of course it matters. You matter. How you feel matters.”

  “Not this time.”

  Her eyes were so sad, full of pity.

  “It’s fine, really. It’ll be fine. I just needed to wallow, that’s all. When I’m finished laying here, hating myself, I’ll work on my resume and start looking for a job. I’m sure Laney will give me a good reference, and I have loads of experience. I’ll be fine.” Eventually. Hopefully.

  “If you say so,” she said quietly. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  She slipped out of the bed, looking cowed, but she spun around once her feet were on the ground and grabbed my comforter, ripping it off me with a cruelly amused look on her face.

  “Hey!” I yelled.

  “And it’s because I love you that I won’t let you keep on rolling around in your stinky pity party. So get up, smelly. I bet your nooks and crannies smell atrocious.”

  I curled up in a ball, feeling around for my top sheet. “Ugh, fuck off, Roxy.” My fingers closed around it only to have it ripped away too.

  “Ah, ah, ah. You’re getting up and getting some vitamin D before
you turn into a vampire.”

  I pulled a pillow over my face and groaned, but that disappeared too.

  “Come on, mopey. Party’s over. Time to go wash your undercarriage before you develop a fungus.”

  I lay there, staring at the ceiling. “I hate you.”

  She scooped up my bedding and headed for my door. “Tell me that after you’re clean.” She disappeared, but popped her head back into the room. “Oh, and if you don’t get up in the next two minutes, I’m sending Kira in.”

  Kira was even more relentless than her mother. I groaned, and she smiled before disappearing again.

  I sighed once I was alone, feeling that loneliness, that emptiness. Loss of purpose, that was part of it. Loss of Joel. That was a bigger part. But he couldn’t be any more clear. It was over. And the only silver lining was the comfort of having done the right thing, even if the right thing for everyone else was the complete and utter sacrifice of what I wanted.

  I hauled my body off the bed and shuffled into the bathroom, turning on the shower once the door was closed. I stripped down automatically, sticking my hand in the stream until it was hot enough to burn, climbing in to let the water beat down on me. Roxy was right — the shower was cleansing, the soap crisp and fresh in my nose, bringing me back into humanity by a degree. I even shaved my legs, feeling inspired by the thought of walking down to the ocean with the sun shining, the wind blowing with the little bit of crispness the water gave to the air.

  I even brushed my teeth, mostly because they didn’t really feel scummy until the rest of me was clean. Roxy was waiting in my room when I walked back in, wearing nothing but a towel. She sat on my bed — which she’d made neatly — with her legs folded in lotus, looking terribly pleased with herself. The curtains were thrown open, making the room look almost cheery. A little part of me hated her for it.

  “Still hate me?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I said as I opened my closet door.